


soul engines running through a night so tender

by rolloinky



Series: roam if you want to [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Coming Untouched, Fantasizing, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Kingdom Hearts III, Pining, Road Trips, Size Difference, Size Kink, Teasing, Tent Sex, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolloinky/pseuds/rolloinky
Summary: Despite the constant torture of being in close quarters with the the boy he's infatuated with, Soralovestraveling with Riku. The experience has outshined all of the daydreams he’s had over the years of what escaping the islands could have been like.Or: Sora and Riku visit Deep Jungle and resolve things.





	soul engines running through a night so tender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fireborn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireborn/gifts).

> This has been such a labor of love and I am so happy to be finished with it. I love these two so dearly and hope that I did them justice. 
> 
> Title taken from "Jungleland" by Bruce Springsteen, a song that is totally irrelevant to the content of this fic but somehow got involved nevertheless.

Several months after the battle ended Sora floated the idea of visiting worlds to Riku. He readily agreed and they set out shortly after. 

Per Master Aqua’s safety protocols, they check in every week and provide status updates on the worlds they visit, the lanes between, and field reports on injuries. Otherwise, it’s just been the two of them. _Alone_. Much to Sora’s delight and utter dismay. 

Traveling with Riku means sacrificing certain safety nets he’d become accustomed to at the Tower. Being in such close proximity all day every day is _very_ fraught territory now that Sora doesn’t have a bedroom to retreat to and has thus learned to take his shower _after_ Riku. It’s become routine to wait for the water to shut off, hot anticipation and dread churning in his gut flaring brighter when Riku comes out in his clothes for the day. Tries, and fails, to not study the way Riku’s v-neck clings to the countours of his still damp body, his _stupid_ biceps flexing as he towels his hair. Sora suffers and savors the view in equal measure, clutching a towel over his tented sleep pants as he rushes to the bathroom. 

Sora thinks he’s jerked off more times during this voyage than his entire _life_. 

Despite the constant torture of being in close quarters with the the boy he’s infatuated with, Sora _loves_ traveling with Riku. The experience has outshined all of the daydreams he’s had over the years of what escaping the islands could have been like. He’s beyond grateful for the chance to explore the galaxy with his best friend, but a small melancholic piece of him nags how they could have had this from the _start_. They could have made all of these connections across all of these worlds _together_, no need for introductions or stilted formality. He eventually boxes that wishful thinking and stores it out of sight, focusing instead on how he gets that opportunity with Riku _now_. 

Fights have deescalated from life or death, the worlds still need patrolling, but the overall conflict has reduced to a simmer. With each passing day of their journey, Sora imagines he can see a line of tension release from his friend’s shoulders. Riku’s appearance is still suited for fulfilling his duty as a Keyblade Master but he’s allowed his personality to fill in the rest. His hair has grown to his collarbone, due to preference not because he’s trying to hide anymore, and he walks with his broad shoulders pushed back. Riku seems _settled_ now. His smiles come easier, his laugh louder, and Sora has to dig his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out and tracing the faint laugh lines. He spends most of their time trekking through worlds with his weapon in his hands or his curled fists shoved deep into pockets, anything to disway the urge of taking Riku’s hand in his. 

It’s been months now since they set off and Sora can’t think of another time where (despite the hormone addled moments) he’s been this relaxed in _years_. Growing up together eliminated any learning curve about each other’s living habits, even with the years long separation. Aside from their squabbing over Sora’s piloting style, it feels like they picked up right where they left off. They eat every meal together, they fight heartless together (Sora’s desperately holding on to the slight lead he has over Riku), and their bunks are an arms length apart. Riku’s sleep schedule has been off ever since his time in the Realm of Darkness, but on the rare occasion Sora is awake while his best friend sleeps, he’ll turn on his side to face him and just _look_. Watches the steady rise and fall of his chest after so many years of not knowing where he was or if he was even still _breathing_. Sora falls asleep most nights matching his breathing to Riku’s, the peaceful stillness of the others face the last thing he sees before slipping under. 

They’re on course to Deep Jungle despite Sora’s attempts to put it off a little longer. His plan was working splendidly until Riku’s quiet admission from the passenger seat of wanting to see the waterfalls. Riku rarely asked for anything and when he did, Sora made it a priority. Sora’s avoidance had nothing to do with the world itself but the memories it invoked. Deep Jungle was a low point in Sora’s first journey and one he tried not to dwell on. The gummiship was wrecked, he and Donald were at each other’s throats, and being hunted through an unfamiliar world by a predator that could disembowel him at any moment wasn’t a _great_ introduction. The weeks of searching for his friends through the jungle, spurred on by Tarzan’s words, had been a constant pendulum of hope and despair. Sora didn’t blame Tarzan one bit for the misunderstanding, but the leaden weight in his stomach when they reached the butterfly grove is one he’ll carry with him forever. After all that build up of hope, to find no trace of his friends had been absolutely _devastating_. Sora had said his goodbyes around the nausea in his throat and crawled into his bunk while Donald and Goofy installed the newly acquired gummi. He had woken up hours later, arms sore from how tightly he’d wrapped them around himself, face still damp, Goofy’s blanket tucked around his body. 

Today, Sora hopes that experiencing Deep Jungle with the very boy he was looking for so desperately all those years ago will supplant those memories entirely. His hands drumming on the controls with lingering apprehension, eyes darting to Riku’s reflection in the windshield only to find his friend staring right back. Sora sucks in a quick breath and snaps his gaze back to the field of asteroids in front of him, thankful to Chip and Dale for designing ridiculously large seats to hide the bright red flush along his ears and neck. 

Deep Jungle comes into view shortly after, and Sora can hear the gasp of amazement behind him. The Destiny Islands was relatively flat, a lack of higher elevations making the enormous waterfall currently dominating their line of sight impossible on their home world. 

“Wait until you see it up close!” he grins and turns to the seat behind him, catches Riku’s wide eyes glued to the world. Sora bites his lip and turns back around, heart thrumming with excitement now.

\---

They touch down a short distance away from the Porter’s encampment but not close enough to encroach on the gorilla’s territory (hard lessons all around on the first visit). After a short stretching session, Sora locks the gummiship with his keyblade and they head off through the thick foliage. They trudge through thick ferns and over gnarled trunks in companionable silence until they reach a dirt path forking into opposite directions. Sora is relieved to find that Jane, by the look of the precise cursive handwriting, has made directional markers leading to the encampment since his last visit. He’s gotten better with navigation over the years, but Deep Jungle had been an absolute _maze_ to Sora. He feels a small flare of warmth at the thoughtfulness of his friends, hand unconsciously reaching up to grip his necklace. 

“Everything okay?” Riku asks with a hand on Sora’s shoulder. Sora startles and looks up and _up_ with an embarrassed grin. Willing the blush he knows is beginning to creep across his cheeks once again to _knock it off_. 

“Yeah! Looks like they’ve been busy since I visited. It’s gonna be _a lot_ easier to find our way around this time.” 

Riku glances at the sign post thoughtfully, hand still clasped around Sora’s shoulder. Sora wills himself not to shiver at its heavy weight, suspects that hand has soaked up every ounce of heat from the sun and is now intent on burning its way through his body. Sunlight is filtering through the leaves and branches above them, scattering slivers of light across Riku’s face, his hair. Sora gulps, brow arching at the lingering silence and watches the beginnings of a smirk appear on Riku’s lips. 

“You know...Donald told me that you got _so lost_ once that you stepped off a branch and fell into a lagoon. Is this the same world?” Riku is trying to keep a straight face, smirk wavering with his struggle not to laugh. Sora is left gaping up at his friend, face flushing up to his hairline.

“_Riku,_” he whines, dislodging the hand on his shoulder with a pout and stomping down the path that leads toward the campsite. Riku’s laughter finally bursts out behind him and Sora’s shoulders try to rise above his burning ears. Donald was so fucking dead.

\---

The reach the campsite shortly after (Sora’s face downgrading from red to pink), and are met with an ecstatic welcome. Sora excitedly introduces Riku to Tarzan, Jane, and her father Archie, the latter of which is fascinated by Riku’s silver hair. Sora can’t blame him, but his own fascination is decidedly _not_ scientifically based. They arrived late in the day and are treated to supper and get help from Jane setting up their tent (it’s _significantly_ smaller than the others which sets Sora’s heart racing) before they all retire for the night.

Sora’s already settled in his bed roll by the time Riku returns to the tent. He’s set up the bed rolls as far apart as possible, pushed up tight to the inside of the walls without the threat of pulling the structure down in their sleep. Sora’s got every appendage crossed that Riku won’t say anything about the setup and he won’t have to come up with a lame excuse.

Sora spots Riku’s shadow through the canvas of the tent and quickly feigns sleep, leaving a tiny sliver of his eyes open. He can see Riku pause in the doorway, the light of the small lantern hanging from the tent support carving soft shadows on his face. Riku moves further inside, bent over, head brushing against the ceiling of the tent as he makes his way over to his bed roll. Sora can hear the rustling of fabric as Riku gets comfortable and finally closes his eyes the last few centimeters now that Riku is no longer in his line of sight. 

He’s just starting to drift when he can sense something near his face. He peeks his eye open the barest amount again and wills himself to maintain even breaths at the sight. Riku is facing him, arm stretched out, fingertips close enough to graze his cheek. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears and he’s half surprised the ground isn’t shaking underneath. He watches, a low ache in his chest dropping to the pit of his stomach when Riku curls his fingers inward, fist clenching and retracting to curl into his chest before he reaches up and extinguishes the light. 

Sleep comes fitfully that night. 

\---

The following weeks they stick to a strategy they devise with Jane and company. Sora and Riku provide them with all the pertinent information they need about the heartless situation (without infringing on world order) and provide rudimentary weapons training to Jane and her father. Sora doesn’t wear the role of teacher comfortably but he’s patient and doles out encouragement in spades. They’ve been sparring after breakfast for weeks now, and Sora is incredibly pleased with her progress, knows her abilities will only continue to grow. She’s clever and quick, complementing Tarzan’s strength and power nicely. He voices this one morning when they take a rest to drink from their canteens, the air tepid from an overnight storm, and ducks his blushing face when Jane says the same of him and Riku with a small smirk. 

Jane might be too clever for Sora’s own good. 

While Sora was tutoring Jane, Riku took on the task of trying, and ultimately failing, at teaching Archie defense techniques. Their training sessions, if you could even call them that, started with warm up exercises but quickly devolved into experiments with Riku serving as an assistant. Sora loved Riku’s determination and commitment, but even he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Nevertheless, Riku decided one early morning to teach Archie, a scholarly old man half his height, how to break out of a hold. Sora had watched from the sidelines, perched on a crate to get the best view, as Riku came up behind Archie. Riku had to be on his _knees_ to even reach Archie’s neck, much to Sora’s endless amusement. Sora watched as Riku moved forward, arms locked around the other’s neck in a light chokehold. 

Archie had almost immediately lost consciousness, a startled squawk coming from Riku as the man limply slid out of his arms and onto the grass. Sora snorted, doubled over wheezing, tears streaming down his face as Riku frantically checked the man’s vitals. Jane had come over with an item of laundry and begun fanning it over her father’s face until he stirred, consoling Riku and assuring him no harm was done. Riku had stomped over to Sora, grabbed him by the collar before pulling him into a noogie. Archie came to shortly after to see Riku pin Sora face first into the dirt, giggles still bubbling out of him. 

When they weren’t training or clearing out the heartless steadily encroaching on the camp, Sora was teaching Riku how to slide along the slick branches of the canopy. As with anything, Sora had thought wryly, Riku had picked up the technique unfairly quickly. His annoyance hadn’t lasted long once he heard the joyous whoop next to him, a streak of silver sliding past as they flew through the canopy. 

The heartache of fourteen year old Sora wandering through this world seemed a distant memory at this point. Sora knew, without a doubt, that Riku made all the difference. His days were filled him with joy and apprehension. He caught himself staring more and more and would dig his thumb into his palm, the biting pain paling in comparison to the thought of driving Riku away. His secret was safe, and he would fight tooth and nail with _himself_ to keep it that way.

\---

It was their last day in Deep Jungle and Riku wants to see the waterfall one last time, they decide to swing, slide, and jump their way there. They criss cross each other’s paths, Riku’s laughter right next to Sora’s ear one second and then seemingly miles away the next. They part and come together over and over, and in that moment Sora wants nothing more than to grab ahold of Riku’s hand and slide _together_. Sora reaches his hand out, fingers grazing Riku’s jacket before the branches diverge and Sora’s left trying to regain his balance, palm itching from _almost_.

Riku’s gaining ground, and Sora knows that if he doesn’t slow him down somehow he’ll end up losing the unspoken race. He can’t lose on their last day. 

The next pass when their paths intersect, Sora kicks off of the tree closest to him towards Riku instead of the next vine. He sees the whites of Riku’s eyes, his best friend no doubt expecting them to fall to the forest floor hundreds of yards below. Sora laughs, interrupting Riku’s path, their vines twisting around one another as they circle each other above the treetops. They’re twirling passed each other over and over and Sora’s laughter peters out as their eyes locked. Their vines becoming twisted together tighter and tighter with each pass until they eventually slow. Riku clamps his legs around Sora to bring him to a complete stop and Sora feels a wave of dizziness, unsure if the cause is from spinning or the boy wrapped around him. 

“You okay? You wanna stop?” Riku says quietly, not wanting to disrupt the ambient noise of the jungle surrounding them. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes, so Sora shakes his head with a small hum and bites his lip, looking down at where their legs are tangled together. The air is muggy this high up in the trees, the leaves and branches seem to trap the sunlight filtering through. Riku gives a squeeze of his legs around Sora’s, ducks his head until Sora meets his gaze. 

“Nah, I’m good. Just thinking about how _stupidly_ good you are at this,” Sora says, and he is thinking. Thinking _now_ about what a bad idea this whole thing is, realizes how closely they’re pressed together. How his field of vision is swallowed up by Riku who is holding his entire weight with his arms. His very large, very muscular arms which Sora has devoted a lot of time thinking about every morning for the past several months. He hears a small choking noise and looks up to find Riku averting his eyes, a flush from the exertion across his high cheekbones. He drops his legs from around Sora and wraps them once again around the vine in his hands. 

“I learned from the best,” he says with a small smile. Sora chuckles, pushes his shoulder so he gently sways backwards then forwards again. Riku looks at their surroundings for a moment, smile twisting. He closes his eyes, minutely shakes his head before turning back to Sora, eyes flickering across his face before his expression seems to settle. He reaches out, hand hesitating for a second, and tucks a strand of hair behind Sora’s ear, thumb grazing Sora’s cheek on the way back. 

Sora sucks in a breath, feeling frozen with Riku’s hand inches from his face, an echo of that first night in the tent. The easy affection they had as children had been harder to come by shortly before the islands fell, even harder to come by during those years apart, and now it’s... different. After their mark of mastery exam, Sora had sat down and unpacked his years of world saving, of searching, and came to the conclusion that he was head over heels in love with his best friend. He decided he would hold his feelings close and would adjust how he acted around Riku to keep it secret and safe, adamant that everything would crumble should his feelings come to light. Riku had sacrificed himself over and over again and Sora couldn’t live with himself if his feelings became one more burden Riku would shoulder without question.

_This_ whole situation is definitely _not_ in Sora’s rulebook of “Riku Safe Actions”. Sora feels like his chest is imploding and his cheek tingles from that barely there contact. He has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this and he can feel the panic bubbling up his throat-

Slightly hysterical laughter pours out of him uncontrollably and he looks around for an escape from this nightmare of his own making. He is such an _idiot_. A selfish idiot who’s intent on blowing up the best thing in his life just because he can’t keep his eyes and hands to himself. He notices they’re several feet from a thick crop of tree tops, figures this is good a place as any, and releases his hold on the vine. He hears Riku’s startled shout as he falls, leaves kicking up from the impact of his drop. His hands are shaking and he wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, tries to suck in enough air to prevent his lungs from collapsing under the weight of his anxiety. 

Riku slowly slides down the length of the vine, drops a short distance behind Sora. Sora closes his eyes, tries to shape his mouth into his usual grin, throws his hands behind his head in his signature pose. He turns to Riku, facade in place, prays that the trembling of his hands hasn’t worked its way down his arms.

“If you can beat _the best_ to the waterfall, you _might_ be able to hold your own against Tarzan.” 

Riku’s face is still unreadable. Sora prays that Riku will take the bait and ignore whatever just happened in favor of trouncing him in a race. He watches, heart in his throat, as Riku looks down at his feet, hand running through his hair. It briefly catches the refracted light around them, looks like a meteor shower falling down his shoulders.

_Oh no,_ Sora thinks as Riku tilts his head up, smirk on his lips. It’s entirely unfair for Riku to look so good after spending the morning careening through the jungle. Sora _knows_ how gross he must look. There’s leaves stuck in his hair, he’s so sweaty his shirt has become a second skin at this point, and he’s no doubt still cherry red from that tiny brush of fingers. 

“Is that a challenge, half-pint?” Riku slowly walks towards Sora, hands adjusting his gloves higher up his forearms. Sora watches the flexing of his arms before returning the stare. He can do this. They’ve raced _thousands_ of times. Besides, the purpose of the race was to detract from his mini meltdown, so the outcome doesn’t matter so long as Riku’s successfully distracted.

Still, he gives Riku a once over, looking up with his head cocked because he’s too dumb to just let things _go_. He can almost hear the long suffering sigh of Roxas in his ear. Sora never quite learned how to quit when he was ahead. 

“Not much of a challenge by the looks of it, _Riku._” 

He barely registers Riku’s lips parting, or the spasm of his hand around the material of his glove, before he’s off like a shot. 

It’s been a few years since he’s done this but his muscle memory kicks in and compensates when he stumbles. Stepping here, jumping there, he starts to descend through the trees. Sora can see the jungle floor now and he pushes himself faster, hears the commotion growing behind him as Riku gains ground quickly. Sora has the familiarity of their surroundings on his side but Riku’s legs are so damn _long_. He curses and praises them in equal measure in his head, heartbeat jackhammering wildly. His heart, body, and soul are _quite_ taken with how Riku has grown and he spends much of his free time daydreaming about how _easily_ Riku could hold his weight as they-

The footfalls behind him are getting louder and Sora shakes his head vigorously of the thought, huffs out a laugh as he sees his path to victory ahead. The treetops drop off into a clearing, spanned only by a handful of vines hanging from the canopy above but too far away to reach, even with their impressive abilities and the “no glide rule” in place. Sora bites his lip to keep from ruining the surprise, scrambling across the branch and dropping into a free fall. He lands several yards below, rolling to distribute the impact and coming to a skidding stop at the edge of the tree top.

He can hear Riku’s startled shout from above as he misjudges the jump and doesn’t have the space to slow down. Riku’s feet slip off the branch and he plummets to the hippo’s lagoon below, the huge splash echoing loudly through the trees. Riku surfaces, sputtering and coughing out water, pushing hair out of his face. Sora’s explosive guffaw nearly drowns out the sounds of the disgruntled animals as they migrate away from the disturbance. 

Sora makes his way to the ground, wheezing as he clutches his ribs. Riku slowly swims over to the bank, face half submerged so only his teal eyes can be seen glaring up at Sora through sopping bangs. Sora’s still giggling, wiping mirthful tears from his face as he looks down at the sorry state of his best friend. _Ah, justice is sweet_ he thinks. 

“Oh _man,_ Riku...what will the King think when he finds out you belly flopped into a lagoon? How the tables have-” Sora yelps as Riku easily wraps his hands around the entirety of his ankles and _pulls_. His ass hits the mossy ground hard, and he props himself up on his elbows, legs spread and submerged to his knees in the water. “_Hey!_ No one likes a sore loser!”

Riku moves forward and hoists himself partially out of the water, caging Sora in with his arms and effectively silencing his string of complaints. He meets Riku’s glare, determined to keep his eyes up, up, _up_ and _away_ from the soaked shirt clinging to Riku’s heaving chest. He tries hard not to completely melt into the mossy ground beneath him when Riku’s hips push his legs wider apart, the insides of Sora’s thighs searing from the contact. The hot press of their bodies suffuses him and he dreams of a different life where he would not be the only one burning right now. 

Sora’s eyes are wide and he knows enough time has passed that he can’t blame the vibrant flush on his cheeks on their race. He’s praying that Riku can’t feel how hard he is and is once again eternally grateful for the good fairies and their foresight in giving him baggy pants. Riku slowly lowers himself to his elbows, bringing them nose to nose, and Sora feels like he is going to _die_. Their chests press together as he moves to Sora’s ear, hair falling on either side of Sora’s face and effectively blocking out the rest of the world.

“We’re not finished yet, _half-pint._” Riku growls in his ear, a shiver racing down his spine and he digs his hands into the soft soil beneath them, _“This isn’t the waterfall.”_

Sora’s mouth drops open in disbelief as Riku launches himself upwards and begins sprinting further into the wild, his laughter trailing after him as he yells over his shoulder, “See you at the finish line!” 

Sora lays there for a moment, bouncing his head on the ground and rubbing hard at his eyes until he sees white. He knows if he doesn’t get up and follow, Riku will worry and come back to check on him, which is the _last_ thing he needs right now. Sora quickly dunks his lower body into the cool lagoon, hoping the temperature will subdue his arousal (_nice try_), before jogging into the brush after him. 

Sora loses the race.

\---

After Riku spent the entire walk back to camp gloating over his victory, they talk and eat with the others for the rest of the evening around the campfire. Tarzan’s English has drastically improved since Sora visited, no doubt thanks to Jane’s efforts, and he can hear his steady voice mingling with Riku’s on the other side of the campfire. The two clicked quickly upon their arrival, their calm energy resonating quickly with one another. The morning after their arrival, Riku scouted around the camp for a decent spot for his daily routine of meditating ahead of the sunrise. Tarzan had requested to join Riku later during breakfast, to which Riku hesitantly agreed, and had joined him every morning from then on. The first thing Sora sees upon exiting their tent each day is the morning sun streaming through the bamboo stalks, soft shadows painting the ground behind the two closely seated figures. 

In exchange for the meditation lessons, Tarzan has taken the opportunity to teach Riku about ground based combat. He couldn’t say how Riku was progressing because he never stuck around long enough to see. On those training days, Sora likes to go collect water from the rain traps so he doesn’t embarrass himself watching Riku roll around on the ground, grunting and sweating, muscles straining as he tries to pin Tarzan. It’s best for everyone honestly. 

On Sora’s side of the campfire, Archie is talking _at_ Sora about his latest experiments, Jane sketching away in her drawing pad with charcoal stained fingers. Archie’s voice drones into a hum as Sora remembers how Jane kept him company that first night in this world. He had curled up by the fire, exhausted and upset from a long day of fighting off heartless and with Donald. Jane had tentatively sat next to him, flipped through her sketch pad until he bothered to ask her about it, Donald and Goofy bickering off to the side with Clayton. She showed him pages upon pages filled plants and wildlife, meticulous notes carefully written in between sketches. She had documented, in painstaking detail, the daily goings-on of the camp and its inhabitants. Jane explained that observation was key to understanding anything. That the more you look at something, the deeper your knowledge of the subject would become. Sora had flipped to the back of the notebook to find a multitude of sketches featuring Tarzan, studies of his face carefully rendered over and over again. He remembers Jane flushing scarlet and closing the book with a snap, going so far as sitting on it for the rest of the night. He can’t see from his position what Jane is working on so intently but he hopes she’ll show him before they leave in the morning. 

There’s a small laugh across from him and his gaze drifts from Jane to the source. Riku is showing Tarzan the style of spears they have on the Destiny Islands, better suited to hunting than a means of defense but still unique to the ones in this world. Riku catches him staring and gives him a soft smile, glancing to the side at Tarzan and shrugging. Despite Sora’s best efforts to convince him otherwise, Riku still struggles to believe that his company is valued and sought after. He wishes Riku could see what he sees. Sora gives him a grin, continues to watch even as Riku turns back to the conversation with Tarzan.The flickering light of the fire plays across his features, turns Riku’s hair a pale gold. 

He’s the most beautiful person Sora’s ever seen and he feels like he’s vibrating with the need to reach out, press his fingers into that smile. Sora doesn’t know how much more of this he can take before the carefully constructed dam he’d built since Riku dived into his dreams comes crashing down around his head. 

\---

Shortly after, the fire is doused and they all split up for the night. Sora washes his face, pats himself dry when he catches Jane pull Riku aside in his periphery. He watches curiously, Jane being unusually quiet as she walks and talks with Riku. They stop near the flagpole, Riku’s face flickering through an array of emotions when Jane hands him something, covers his hands with hers. Sora’s too far away to see what it is, the low light limiting his vision even more. She pats Riku’s hand gently before heading off towards the other end of the encampment and Riku’s just...standing there, staring at the item in his hands. Despite his burning curiosity, Sora hurries to their tent and gets changed. It’s none of his business. If it’s something important, Riku will surely tell him. 

Riku ducks into the tent several minutes later as Sora is settling down into his roll and one look at his face sucks the air from Sora’s lungs. His brows are furrowed, lips parted as his eyes sweep across Sora’s face. Sora can finally identify the item in Riku’s hands and is confused to see several sheets of paper. They are delicately cradled in Riku’s left hand, right clenched tightly at his side. His eyes track Riku’s slow descent into his respective bed roll, not daring to breathe too loudly in the suffocating silence. Riku sits facing him with his legs crossed, both hands now enveloping the sheaf of paper, and Sora begins to feel a sour twist in his stomach. 

“I think we should talk,” Riku’s quiet voice feels like a sonic boom in the tent and it reverberates through his rib cage and shakes his heart loose from its moorings. Sora’s mind is racing, trying to anticipate the nature of this conversation and how lightly he needs to tread.

“Sora, how do you feel...about me?” Sora’s eyes are glued to that _fucking_ piece of paper in Riku’s hands, scrambling for any idea on how something so insignificant could have resulted in _this_ conversation. 

“You’re my best friend.” 

_That’s a safe answer_, Sora thinks, and it’s _true_. Sora’s never been a skilled liar or adept at misdirection, so he hopes that a partial truth will satisfy Riku’s line of questioning and they can suffer through this loaded silence until they fall asleep. He can wake up pretending that he isn’t in love with his best friend, like he does every day, and everything will be _okay_. _They’ll_ be okay.

“Is that all, though?” Riku’s fingers are wrinkling the paper in his lap, the noise catches his attention and he carefully smoothes a palm across the surface to correct any damage. Sora can hear his calluses catching on the fibers of the paper, wants nothing more than to rip it from Riku’s hands to find out how Jane got him into this mess. Riku sighs quietly before holding the papers out to Sora with both hands, “I think you should see these before you say anything else.”

Sora gingerly takes them, uses the same soft touch as Riku. He shakily folds them open in his lap, brows furrowing.

The papers are covered in observations of... Sora. Drawings and notes completed by Jane herself which date back to his very first visit. There are sketches of him, Donald, and Goofy with information on each of them neatly organized on the side. The next page has “Riku and Kairi?” scrawled along the top, a rough map of the area surrounding the encampment sketched beneath. Small “x’s” demarcate locations around the page and Sora remembers investigating every single one vividly, finding nothing but disappointment each and every time. He sets that piece aside and feels his throat tighten when he reads “Riku” in thick cursive along the top, the rest of the page filled with sketches of a fourteen year old Sora. His expressions range from exuberance to melancholy, cataloguing Sora’s daily oscillation between bragging about his best friend and missing him. 

In his periphery Sora can see Riku has remained perfectly still and feels a small pang of envy that he’s so unaffected. On the other hand, Riku’s heart hasn’t been carefully dissected and laid bare so why _wouldn’t_ he be? 

The next page has the same header, the charcoal treated to avoid smudging but notably more fresh than the previous pages. Sora’s heart plummets. The heavy silence in the tent from before is favorable to the sudden rush of blood in his ears. He’s warring between bursting into tears or throwing up but he knows he definitely doesn't want to do either in front of Riku. Riku would try to comfort him which would just add a layer of _guilt_ on top of everything else. 

There’s more sketches of Sora, recent ones, and he instantly recognizes the expressions Jane’s recreated because he’s been trying to hide them from his best friend for years now. Jane has documented, in devastating detail, the effect Riku has on every ounce of his being. The sketches are damning, and Sora begins to hyperventilate as years of pining for his best friend have been captured and laid bare. Along the edge of the paper, cramped between drawings of Sora, is a line of text. 

_“The desire of the moth for the star.”_

The writing was partially smudged, as though someone had caught themselves before reducing the text to a streak of black. In the low light, Sora can just barely make out charcoal residue on Riku’s thumb. 

“Is this why you got so closed off? After our exam, you stopped-”

“Riku, please, I-” he cuts himself off before he can even begin because what is there _to_ say? All his work at hiding undone by a couple sheets of paper. There is no possible explanation for this other than the obvious and he lays the pages down in the space between them, unable to meet Riku’s unrelenting stare. Sora shuts down, tries to find a way to salvage their friendship from this mess. Relies on his go-to method of dealing with upsets, buries it down and pretends he’s still the happy go-lucky kid everyone sees him as. He forms his mouth into some semblance of a grin and lifts his head, looking at a spot over Riku’s shoulder. Feels his heart beating so heavily it’s hard to hear it break over his thrumming pulse. 

“You were never supposed to know,” he whispers and he can feel the tears forming, distorting Riku entirely. His hands have been clenched so hard around each other for so long that they’re starting to go numb. “I’m-I’m really sorry about all this, and for making you, um, uncomfortable. Can we just go to sleep? Please, please, don’t hate me- I don’t know why she-“ 

He’s cut off by Riku’s fingers on his lips. Sora can feel the roughness of his fingertips and the thought of how they might feel on his tongue flashes through his mind before he can head it off entirely. He shuts his eyes tightly, berating himself for the thought. Riku’s hand travels to the side of his face, thumb brushing under his eye tenderly, before cupping his cheek. Sora’s humiliation burns nearly as hot as the palm pressed so delicately against him. 

“Sora...I could _never_ hate you. Especially not for this,” his voice is shaking just as much as Sora’s, “never for this.”

Sora’s eyes flick open, the tears coating his eyelashes leaving a damp curve beneath his eyebrows when he looks up. They’re the same eyes as they’ve ever been, even after Sora unmoored the entire foundation of their friendship. 

Deja vu creeps onto Sora as they reach another juncture in their relationship. Another door closing between them, another pod caging him in sleep, another conflict separating them in the name of duty. Sora is _terrified_ that he’s reading this wrong and decides inaction is safer than destroying his most beloved friendship. 

Riku’s lips part under his stare and he releases a carefully measured breath, hand steady on Sora’s cheek. His other hand, Sora notes, is clenched tightly on top of his crossed legs. There’s a slight tremor running up his arm and Sora follows it all the way back up to his face, lashes brushing Riku’s thumb. There’s a small flame of hope being stoked inside his chest but too he’s scared of being burned, too scared to reach out and take more. 

Sora feels like he’s back in the realm of darkness, hands pressed against that _fucking_ door with Riku on the other side. Except this time, _this time,_ Riku seems to be pushing right back and Sora is fumbling for traction. Looking up into Riku’s eyes, seeing that same affection that’s been there since he was little, he doesn’t know why he’s pushing back at all.

So he pulls the door open instead. 

He leans closer, their shadows bleeding together in the lantern light, and nudges his nose against Riku’s. He can see Riku’s pupils expanding right before his eyes flutter closed, their lips meeting in a trembling kiss. 

Sora knows now that daydreams can’t even begin to compare to _this_.

He pulls back until Riku comes into focus, heart in limbo between devastation and delight from _finally_ kissing the boy he loves. He’s got nothing left to lose at this point, so he plays his final hand until all his cards are on the table. 

“I love you, Riku. I’ve _been_ in love with you for...a really, _really_ long time,” Sora says, a strange calm has settled over him now and he’s resolved to see this through to the end. He untangles his hands from his lap, the returning blood flow making them tingle as he reaches up to cradle the hand on his cheek. Keeping his eyes locked on the boy across from him, he turns his head and places a kiss on Riku’s rough palm.

Riku’s gasp punches through the silence of the tent and then everything is _moving_. Sora’s pulled forward by his shirt, hands scrabbling for purchase on Riku’s thighs, and then they are _kissing_ again. Sora’s pinned between the hand tangled in his shirt and the one clutching the back of his head, Riku’s lips working his open in between, and Sora’s can’t believe this is actually happening. 

He tries to regain his balance, unconsciously slides his hands higher up Riku’s thighs, shaking loose a breathy groan. He digs his fingers in hoping to hear it again. His hands are dwarfed by the legs beneath him and he whines into Riku’s mouth, unable to comprehend that he’s _here_. 

Riku slows them down, presses a final chaste kiss to Sora’s lips before pulling back and removing the hand from his hair. A breathy chuckle escapes when Sora follows after him, lips damp, eyes hazy, and hair somehow _more_ of a wreck than usual. 

Riku reaches between them and moves the sheets of paper over to his pack, hand lingering briefly on the pages before he turns back around. He pulls Sora forward into an embrace, runs a soothing hand down the length of his spine. Sora tries to keep his lower body at a distance, he’s hard and he feels seconds away from coming just from that kiss, but Riku pulls him flush against his chest and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I never thought this was possible. Sora, I’ve-” he cuts himself off, rubbing his forehead against the other boy’s and chuckling under his breath, “Sora, I’ve been in love with you since I was _five._”

“_What?”_ Sora pushes against Riku’s chest so he can look into his eyes, gasping when he’s met with _pink_. He reaches up, gently pushes Riku’s bangs to the side to get a better look, “Is this…?” Sora trails off, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Riku’s dream eater abilities extend beyond the sleeping realm. _Great,_ Sora thinks, _one more thing to obsess over._

“After our exam it just...started happening. And _this,”_ he gestures to his eyes, “keeps happening whenever I’m with you or thinking about you...” his voice trails off, eyes so incredibly soft and _pink_ that Sora feels like he’s melting into the blankets beneath them and wonders how he never noticed. Riku always _was_ good at hiding though. 

“It’s only ever been _you_, Sora.”

The full weight of the evening descends and Sora can’t help the tears that are streaming down his cheeks as he buries his face in Riku’s neck, hands clutching at his shoulders. His hiccuping sobs turning into delighted laughter when Riku’s swipes the tears from his cheeks and follows with a press of lips peppering Sora’s face. Sora’s giggles quiet down into a chirping hum and he nuzzles Riku’s cheek before placing a kiss there.

“I can’t believe I never noticed,” Sora whines, earning a ruffle of his hair which he playfully swats away, “I can’t believe _you_ never noticed. I can’t stop looking at you and I’m pretty much hard _all the time-_”

Sora slaps a hand over his mouth, his face erupting in a wash of red as he scrambles back. A flush blooms on Riku’s cheeks as well, pupils swallowing bright pink. Sora’s cock twitches, palm becoming damp from his heavy breathing, cheeks hurting from how hard his fingers have clamped over his traitorous mouth. 

Riku lets out a carefully measured breath, hands returning to his knees to clench in the material until his knuckles turn white. Sora has always been in awe of Riku’s awareness and control over his entire body while they train. The context is different now but the appreciation remains. He wonders how that precision and focus might be applied to _himself_ and a wave of heat suffuses his spine. 

“Come here,” Riku’s holding a hand out, easily crossing the divide Sora hastily put between them. Sora’s eyes flick between Riku’s hand and face, bouncing between the two so quickly he starts to feel motion sickness. They blink to a halt at the sound of Riku’s chuckle, watching as his best friend drops his head. Riku shakes his head once then looks back up, eyes lidded and lower lip briefly caught in his teeth before he just _smiles_ at Sora. 

“_Come here,_” and this time Sora feels it shake through his skin down to his bones. That was the _Master Riku_ voice. Unlike all the other times he’s been privy to it, Sora’s in full view and unable to reach down and squeeze his cock against the building pressure that tone incites. He swallows, throat clicking and slowly shuffles closer. He prays to Zeus or whoever that he doesn’t have a wet patch on the front of his pants, although that would just be one more embarrassment in a night of many. 

His palm slides across Riku’s as their knees bump together, and he can feel sweat beading along his hairline. He feels a pulse of want when he realizes that despite being fully seated, Riku still has the height advantage. 

Riku’s watching him closely, waiting on Sora to make the first move. Sora huffs out a breath, unable to bear his own lingering doubt any longer, before placing his hand on Riku’s shoulder and swooping in for another kiss. Their fingers tangle together and Sora feels a hand branding the small of his back with heat. He moans, cock leaking at how easily Riku’s hand spans his waist, imagines how his fingertips might meet over his spine while gripping his hips. 

That passing thought gets him moving and he climbs into Riku’s lap, entwined hands parting to grasp at shoulders, hair, hips. Their lips part when Sora finally settles, panting into each other’s mouths. Sora can feel the length of Riku’s cock pressed against his ass, eyes rolling in the back of his head when he finds it’s very... proportional. Riku moans at the weight in his lap, pulling Sora flush against his chest and creating a burst of friction when Sora’s cock rubs against Riku’s abs. Sora whines, nails digging pinpricks into Riku’s biceps, hips stuttering, creating a chain reaction of groans between them. 

Sora puts some space between them, trying to catch his breath and not come in his pants two seconds into finally getting to _touch_. He lost today’s race, but he has his heart set on winning this one. Riku’s forehead knocks against his, a shaky exhale brushing across his nose. Sora looks up and takes it all in. Tracks the sweat mapping the curve of Riku’s cheek, the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the honest to god _twitch_ of Riku’s hips between his thighs where he’s trying not to thrust _up_.

Riku’s legendary restraint is cracking and a thrill shoots down his spine that it’s all because of _him_. Sora’s tired of waiting. He doesn’t want Riku to wait any longer either. 

Sora slowly rocks his hips back, ass dragging along the hard cock pressed against him before quickly snapping forward. Riku _keens_, hands gripping and releasing all over his body, unable to decide where they want to land. Sora decides for him. He guides a hand to his hair, the other to his ass and presses _down_, watches Riku’s eyebrows reach his hairline. 

“You’re gonna wanna hold on,” Sora giggles breathlessly at Riku’s dumbstruck expression and begins to move. 

Riku’s hand clenches in his hair and pulls _just enough_ to create a halo of stinging pleasure along his scalp, just like he’d hoped it would. The hand on his ass hesitates, fingers drumming near the seam before clamping down _hard_ on the next roll of Sora’s hips. Sora moans, heart thrumming at finally having those hands on his body, filled with heat at how he can feel the heavy weight of Riku’s cock on the down swing. On the next roll, he makes sure to linger there. Gently rocking his ass down the length trapped beneath him before rolling up in a slow grind until they meet again. 

“_Fuck,_ Sora! _Please, please, please-”_ Riku’s whimpering in the join between his neck and shoulder, hand gripping his ass _so fucking hard_, pulling him as close as possible with each thrust. Sora stutters through a moan, leaking heavily when he finds he’s not strong enough to push back against that hand and get them moving again. Gasping at the fact that he’s pinned but Riku’s the one falling apart. 

“I’ve got you,” he shushes Riku, peppering his face with a soft press of lips. His hands make the long trek up his shoulders to his neck, cupping his jaw before coaxing it open, sliding his tongue inside. He pulls back, Riku chasing his lips with slits of pink framed by thick lashes, and Sora can’t help the goofy grin that stretches across his face. He pushes Riku’s damp bangs from his forehead, hand combing through the silver fall of his hair before cupping the base of his neck. “Let me have you, _please._”

Riku crushes their mouths together with a growl, thrusting up as much as he can against Sora’s ass. The deep rumble shakes through Sora’s entire body, cock pulsing and hips twitching. Sora’s head is yanked to the side by the hand in his hair, a breathy whine exiting his mouth at the rough handling, Riku’s tongue licking a broad stripe up to his ear. He pulls on the lobe there lightly with his teeth, voice heavy and shaking,_“Move.”_

Sora’s hips automatically obey, picking up their slow grind again, pulse hammering at the way Riku’s just _watching._ Lips damp and parted, eyes flicking between Sora’s face and his stuttering hips. The heated stare has his thighs tensing, ass flexing under Riku’s palm. 

Sora’s so close, he desperately hopes that Riku isn’t far behind. 

He thinks about the next time they might visit Deep Jungle. How they might be in this exact position again with nothing between them. How they’d be pressed together, just like this, damp skin sticking and parting with each movement. How Riku’s nails would be digging into his ass, little crescents of red tracing the curve completely. How full Sora would feel, having that thick cock inside of him, getting to feel this mind melting slow drag _inside_. 

Sora’s panting heavily now, absolutely wrecked between his present and his could-be future. He thinks of how amazing it would feel to be completely wrapped up in Riku. How he might have that strong grip imprinted on his hips for days after. How he might convince Riku to come inside of him in a rush of wet heat, thinks of Riku’s come sliding out with every thrust. 

That train of thought is what finally breaks him, eyes clenched tightly shut, completely undone. He _knows_ his body is still moving, sound ripped from his vocal chords, but he’s completely removed from it. Totally engulfed in this bright wash of white heat.

He comes to moments later, groggily blinking his eyes open. Riku’s palm is running soothing lines up and down his back where he’s cradled against his chest, other arm snug around his waist. They’re laying down on Riku’s bed roll, the bird calls outside the tent barely audible over their heaving breaths. He clumsily turns his head, chin digging into Riku’s sternum, and blinks up at the other boy. He grins dopily when he catches Riku already watching him, eyes soft and lips sporting a matching smile. 

“Welcome back,” Riku’s voice is low and quiet, hand moving to cup the back of Sora’s head, thumb tracing along his hairline. Sora feels loose and light, more relaxed than he’s been in _months_, and a bone deep satisfaction seeps through his limbs. He lowers his head until it’s pillowed once more on the chest beneath him. His pants are a lost cause, uncomfortably wet now-

Sora snaps back awake and tries to push off Riku’s chest but is once again pinned by a large palm on his back. 

“Riku, you didn’t-”

That downward force disappears and Sora nearly lifts himself completely from the ground at the sudden absence. He reaches between them to palm at Riku only to find a matching patch of wet heat there. Sora’s eyes snap up, lips parted. Riku’s buried his face in his hands, bright red seeping past his palms and down his neck. He _did this_. Made Riku feel so good he didn’t need anything more. The knowledge suffuses his chest with warmth and he lowers himself back down, leans up to press a kiss to the back of each of Riku’s hands.

“Riku...you know I would have done the same thing, right? If you had come before me, seeing you like that? I would’ve been _gone,_” he’s stroking along Riku’s wrists, his words and actions finally encouraging Riku into dropping his hands. There’s a shy but pleased smile on Riku’s face and Sora bites his lip, eyes darting to the side bashfully. Riku’s hands move down to Sora’s waist and pull him further up his body, nestles him in the crook of his neck. Sora fists his hands in Riku’s shirt, breaths evening out as the adrenaline drop and post coital lethargy start pulling him under. Riku strokes a hand through his hair, fingers rubbing circles along his scalp, a low hum reverberating through his chest. Sora presses a kiss over Riku’s pulse, words slurring together, “Wish I kept my eyes open...wish I could’ve seen you…”

Sora feels the skip in Riku’s pulse, the sharp intake of breath by his ear, before the body beneath his melts into the bed roll. He feels a kiss pressed into his hair before his eyes flutter to a close. 

\---

The next morning is...different. They wake up, untangling from each other sleepily, and head to the waterfall to wash up like they do every day. But it’s different, the same daily routine shifted the slightest bit. They walk side by side, hands brushing repeatedly in a tease before Sora finally presses his palm to Riku’s and locks their fingers snugly together. They avoid each other’s eyes the rest of the way, miss the matching splashes of pink across the other’s cheeks. 

When they finally return to camp after a very challenging bath (turns out washing and getting dressed is just as difficult, if not harder, when there’s requited feelings in the air), they’re met with a hearty breakfast. The air around camp is jovial despite their impending departure, and Sora gladly listens to Archie’s rambling theory on gorilla nesting habits as a parting gift. He’s absent-mindedly nodding along, amused more than anything at the wildly gesticulating limbs swinging dangerously over their spread of food. He catches Riku staring, eyes darting away in embarrassment at having been caught before he realizes that this is _allowed_ now. Sora meets his eyes again, tries to pour every ounce of affection he has into the look. If Riku’s bashful smile and pink tinged ears are any indication, he’s pretty successful. 

They pack up to depart soon after, stuffing supplies and trinkets into their packs before loading it onto the gummiship. Sora and Riku bend down to hug Archie (Riku still insists on calling him Professor Porter despite numerous protests), and Sora dissolves into giggles when Archie prolongs the embrace with Riku to inspect his hair one last time. Tarzan pulls Sora into a hug, cutting off his laughter, tells him to come back soon. Sora pats his back, hums his agreement and moves over to Jane a short distance away. He stops in front of her, hands behind his head, “Guess I should thank you, huh?”

Jane chuckles, hand moving up to cover her mouth. She looks over his shoulder and Sora follows her line of sight, watching Riku and Tarzan in deep conversation. Her smile wavers when she turns back to him, hands wringing. 

“I apologize, Sora, if I overstepped last night.” 

“I mean, it was kind of weird at first? I had no idea you were drawing us, drawing _me_, this whole time!” His arms fall in a whoosh down to his sides and he grins up at Jane, “But...it helped. Helped a _lot_. So, thank you.”

He wraps his arms around Jane in a strong hug, feels her hands clutch at his shirt. He squeezes tighter, eyes prickling. He’s _happy_, and so grateful to the woman in his arms, feels so far removed from the fourteen year old who left this world with a broken heart, _”Thank you.”_

“We were all so worried about you after your last visit. You were so young and so very sad, I thought I’d never see that grin again,” Jane pulls back, quickly wiping the tears from her own face, eyes flicking behind him, “but then you waltzed right back in with that smile and _he_ was with you. I wanted to fully understand who he was to you, so I observed, and it all made sense very quickly.”

She cups his face, little sniffles punctuating her words, “you positively _bloom_ whenever he’s near, Sora. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I wanted him to see it too.” 

She pecks him on the forehead before moving past him, pulling Riku into a hug. Sora realizes Riku must have caught the tail end of Jane’s little speech, feels a blush burn his ears. They watch her regroup with the others, wave a final time before heading out on the dirt trail. 

They trek back in silence, the noises of wildlife and the warm morning sun welcome companions. Sora sneaks glances out of the corner of his eye at Riku, traces the small curve to his lips, the softness at the corner of his eye. Wonders if he should be embarrassed about what Jane said, if he should-

Riku grabs his hand, calloused palms pressed tightly together, fingers interlocked. Sora’s thoughts settle as he watches Riku lift their hands, presses a kiss to his knuckles before lowering them back down to swing with their steps. 

There are so many worlds, so many people Riku has heard about but has yet to meet. Sora can’t wait to show him everything.

**Author's Note:**

> The line of text on Jane's drawings is from the poem "To----" by Percy Bysshe Shelley.


End file.
